


Your Lovely Charms

by ChampagneSly



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampagneSly/pseuds/ChampagneSly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A response to a challenge from a friend who didn't think it was possible to write a sweet, loving Norway who wanted to talk about his "feelings."</p><p>Oh, and there was also a demand that marriage be involved.</p><p>So, fluff and smut and Norway's best attempt at sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Lovely Charms

_May, 2004_

“That was an awesome wedding and I am totally for this whole getting hitched to hot commoners deal, but I think I liked it more when your nobles were always marrying mine, you know?” Denmark mused cheerfully as he slumped over in the backseat of the limo, fiddling with the now loosened ends of his bow-tie.

Normally, Norway would have disregarded such a pointless and idiotic statement entirely, but his mind and body had been relaxed considerably by the very, _very_ , good champagne that had been free flowing at the reception to celebrate Crown Prince Frederick’s marriage. So he blamed it on his warmed cheeks and the feeling of effervesce still lingered in his veins that he let himself nod in agreement, remembering how the sex they had after those countless calculated unions that brought their nations ever closer together always seemed to feel more intense and desperate, as if it were a physical manifestation of the politics of pre-modern matrimony.

Norway slid down the leather seat, eyes hooded so as to stare without being noticed, watching Denmark’s lax and happy face, softened by too many beers and the flickering yellow street lights that streamed past them as the car meandered down the road. As Denmark rambled on, he admired the long lines of his legs in black tuxedo pants, the familiar firm set of his shoulders in his evening jacket and the tiny stretch of throat that had been revealed with the abandonment of the tie, temptingly delicious as if waiting for the imprint of his lips and teeth.

Mood gentled by the hum of the car and the thrum of intoxication, Norway let Denmark’s words wash over him unnoticed in their inanity, falling like pebbles into his sea of champagne and sex soaked memories, barely causing a ripple.

Until Denmark slid across the bench, nudging their shoulders together and laughed as he said, “I wonder what ours would have been like if we’d had one back in day to celebrate the greatness of the Denmark-Norway union!”

Norway snorted; shifting his gaze away from Denmark’s smiling face, looking out the window as he retorted, “What for? I wasn’t given much choice in the matter. Just told one day that I was now the dominion of the idiot of the North Sea.”

Denmark huffed in mock offense against his neck, sending a little zing of pleasure across Norway's skin, slowly summoning his sense awake, rising as they inevitably did towards Denmark’s call. He spread out his fingers along the warm leather, inching closer to Denmark, feeling drunk enough to be unopposed to a quick and dirty encounter on the backseat, hidden from prying eyes by the privacy guard. He let his arousal simmer as the fantasy curled through his mind, pulsing behind his eyes until Denmark once again derailed his train to happy town by opening his mouth.

“If we had one now, it would beyond fucking cool. All the nations would have to come, and give us badass presents, and we’d definitely do it up right… the Copenhagen Cathedral in spring, more Carlsberg and akvavit than you could shake a stick at for the reception…” Denmark murmured into the curve of Norway’s now very tense neck.

“What are you talking about, idiot?” Norway said quickly, feeling no small amount of horror in response to Denmark’s chosen subject, wondering exactly where this was coming from.

Denmark continued on, as he always did, undeterred by Norway’s coldness, tracing his hand up Norway leg, “Guess I’d have to make Sweden my best man, that bastard better be grateful. We could get Austria to play us something awesome and maybe if I let him grab my ass once or twice, France will make the food. Too bad old Germania’s not around anymore to walk you down the aisle and give you away.”

“Please stop talking,” Norway said, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, feeling the pleasant haze of his buzz fading in the onslaught of Denmark’s bizarre fantasy.

Denmark paused, nuzzling into Norway’s neck as his fingers kneaded his leg, mumbling, “What, you’ve never thought about it?”

“No,” Norway said scathingly, even as his cheeks flushed.

Wanting to put an abrupt end to this strange conversation that had summoned images of him in a dress being escorted up the steps of the Cathedral by an ancient Germanic warrior, he decided it was worth it to hit below the belt to get Denmark to stop talking.

“And I’m surprised by this nonsense from you. Tell me, Danmark, when did you turn into Sweden?”

That accusation did the trick of silencing Denmark’s tongue, though it had the unfortunate side effect of also stopping the touch of his hands and removing the warm press of thigh as Denmark slid back across the seat to stare out the window, arms crossed over his chest. Norway felt a strange twisting in his chest, an unpleasant counterpoint to his lingering lust, as he surreptitiously ran his eyes over Denmark’s face. He sighed and titled his head back against the seat as he took in his deep frown and the lines of frustration around his eyes, knowing that Denmark was unlikely to let this go; that this time his hurt and irritation went beyond childish pouting at being rebuffed.

“I don’t see what’s so fucking wrong with it, Norge,” Denmark said darkly from the corner of the car and Norway had no answer that was going to assuage Denmark’s temper, nor any answer he was willing to say aloud when the truth of the matter should have been obvious to Denmark all along.

But then again, Denmark was a fool of the first degree, unobservant, obtuse, and brash in everything he did.

 _It was no wonder,_ Norway thought with long-established annoyance, _that Denmark would be entirely unable to pick-up on such subtleties._

And so after letting the question hang for several long moments, as the tension grew steadily between them, Norway settled for his standard answer to all of Denmark’s more frustrating behaviors.

“You’re an idiot,” he said flatly, trying to ignore the way Denmark’s palm smacked against the leather seat in anger, letting the car fall silent once again as they sat next to each other without touching, lost in their own thoughts for the rest of the trip.

Norway was unsurprised to find that Denmark was still in a mood when they arrived at the hotel that was to be the scene for the celebratory brunch the next morning, brushing past Norway without a word as they entered their room. He sighed and gritted his teeth at he watched Denmark stomp into the bedroom and toss his very expensive tailored coat on the chair, his every movement communicating his pouting displeasure.

He took his time hanging up his own jacket and sliding off his shoes, trying to dredge up the will to do what needed to be done to fix this incredibly annoying situation; searching for the patience to see this course of action through as he locked the door and turned off the lights before padding quietly into the bedroom to confront the angry lines of Denmark’s turned back.

With one last deep breath, deliberately ignoring the sudden racing of his heart, Norway crossed the room and pressed himself against Denmark’s tense body, wrapping his arms around his torso and resting his head against his shoulder blades, leaving his fingers to tease at the buttons of Denmark’s shirt.

Denmark stiffened and tried halfheartedly to move away, never very good at denying Norway’s touch, even when he was upset.

“Not really in the mood, Norge,” he grumbled as his hands trapped Norway’s wrists, halting their progress in unbuttoning his shirt.

Norway leaned up on his tip-toes, stretching his height so that he could run his lips up the curve of Denmark’s neck and murmur in his ear, “You should pay attention when I am trying to tell you something, idiot.”

He took advantage of Denmark’s obvious confusion to break his wrists out of their prison, making quick work of the rest of the buttons before he slid around to Denmark’s front, keeping his arms wound tightly around his waist, trapping him in place.

Steadily, and with unguarded eyes that spoke of an emotion deep and staid as glacial ice, he met Denmark’s gaze, tinted with lust and wary curiosity, the anger slowly bleeding out. When he was sure that Denmark was watching, Norway let his eyes flutter closed as he leaned forward to touch his lips to the bare skin over Denmark’s heart. He felt and heard Denmark’s sharp inhale of breath as he sucked lightly, teasing at the spot with teeth and tongue until he was certain that a mark would remain, something to remind his shortsighted idiot of this moment when he looked in the mirror tomorrow.

He shifted forward to bring their bodies together when Denmark’s hands settled on his hips, running his fingers up his sides, skimming over all of Denmark’s hidden scars, touching each one as if to retrace their past, lips tilting into a small smile when Denmark squirmed and gasped as he brushed his thumb over each nipple.

“Norge,” Denmark murmured, voice low and hot, the hands on his hips start to flex with want, ten little indentations of desire pressing into his flesh.

Norway shook his head and reached his hands up to thread into Denmark’s perpetually messy hair, pulling him down so that their lips were almost touching, breathing out, “Shut-up, I’m not done talking.”

And then he kissed him, catching Denmark off-guard with the soft, almost shy touch of his lips, holding back Denmark’s usual eager assault, keeping the pace slow and seductive, matching the gentle strokes of his fingers in Denmark’s hair to the tempered slide of his tongue into his mouth. He opened him up with deliberate slowness, taking his time as he brought his lower lip between his teeth, catching Denmark’s moan before kissing him deeply.

Needy, Denmark clutched at him as Norway untangled his fingers from his hair, trailing his hands down the angles of Denmark’s face, cradling his jaw as if he were fragile, softening their kiss until it was just a press of lips. He hummed in satisfaction, letting Denmark feel the vibrations of his pleasure and his desire, gratified by the answering curve of Denmark’s smile, wondering if perhaps Denmark was finally catching on.

He pulled away, pushing Denmark down on to the bed, smirking as he watched the man bounce and flail. Quickly, Norway unbuttoned his own shirt, tossing it to the side before moving to stand at the foot of the bed, gazing silently down at Denmark, who was looking back at him with such unguarded affection and amusement that something tightened in this throat.

Knowing his lover’s habits far too well and wanting to avoid the inevitable stream of nonsense that was sure to spill from Denmark’ lips if left to his own devices for too long, Norway climbed on to the bed, settling at his feet. He swatted away Denmark’s hands as they reached for him, doubtless intending to bring their bodies back together in their usual hurried tangle, using his nimble fingers to halt Denmark’s burgeoning pout in its tracks as he pulled down his zipper.

Swiftly divesting him of his pants and underwear, Norway sat back on his heels and watched Denmark watch him. He licked his lips deliberately as he raked his eyes up the body bared before him appreciatively, flattered when Denmark’s cock twitched under the attention.

“What are you doing down there?” Denmark asked as he smiled and extended his hand in invitation once again.

Holding Denmark’s gaze, Norway ignored the outstretched hand, leaning over to trace his tongue along the bones of Denmark’s ankle as his fingers played up the sides of his calves to leave teasing little touches in the hollow under his knees.

“I’m teaching you a lesson,” he murmured as he shifted to sit between the spread of Denmark’s legs, running his hands up to rest on the insides of his thighs, feeling the damp heat of his arousal, before he continued, “take notes so you’ll remember later.”

Denmark swallowed and laughed a little, running his fingers through Norway’s hair, “With what exactly?”

Norway rolled his eyes and pushed up on his knees, stretching his body to drape over Denmark, bringing their naked chests together as he raked one of his hands over Denmark’s heart and kissed him deeply.

When they were both breathless, he broke away, flicking his tongue out to catch a drop of sweat that had beaded on Denmark’s temple, pressing his hand down briefly where it rested on his chest, finally answering his question in a voice thick and low with want, “Figure it out yourself, idiot.”

Uninterested in hearing any further protests, Norway kissed Denmark again, stealing his words away as their tongues brushed and their lips parted in a dance they’d been perfecting for more years than he could count. Feeling pliant and patient, Norway took his time with the rest of the task at hand, spending long moments petting at Denmark’s hair and stroking his hands up and down the rise and fall of his biceps, attempting to paint a rare picture of his affection.

As he started to move his lips down the long planes of Denmark’s chest, rewarding each of Denmark’s moans and sighs with more tongue or teeth, Norway let the sounds echo in his mind, noting Denmark’s uncharacteristic silence and they way his body seemed taut with a different kind of tension, how his hands seemed nervous when they touched his face or stroked his sides, as if he were wary of making a wrong move.

Feeling something warm and tender unspool in his chest, Norway took both of Denmark’s hands in his own, kissing each palm before letting his smirk turn wicked and sucking each finger tip into his mouth as he started to slide down his body.

Denmark moaned hot and loud, breaking the stillness of the darkened room, rusting the sheets as he arched his hips and spread his legs further, ready and waiting for Norway’s lithe little body to settle between them.

When the last of Denmark’s fingers fell from his lips with a satisfying pop, Norway placed one hand over his heart and let Denmark settle the other in his hair, flooded with lust and longing as Denmark pulled gently on the strands, tugging his head forward.

Wetting his lips and opening his mouth, Norway dragged his fingers up the insides of Denmark’s thighs, letting his nails scratch against the skin as he leaned down and finally took Denmark into his mouth, holding still as Denmark groaned in obscene satisfaction and thrust upwards. He hummed as he ran his tongue along the underside, tracing the curve before pursing his lips and sucking gently.

Denmark was babbling and cursing, hips rising and falling with the slow, teasing rhythm of Norway’s indulgent attentions. For his part, Norway let his eyes fall shut, focusing entirely on the sensation of the heat on his tongue and the weight in his hand, heart beat pounding in his ears as he took Denmark’s pleasure as his own, slipping and sliding through his veins, embedded in his heart.

He tried to think of how many times he had done this, for how many years they had been falling into bed together, how it was that he knew the sounds of Denmark’s moans as well as he knew his own, how it was that he knew the feel of Denmark inside him was something he would never forget.

Denmark’s fingers were twisting in his hair, calling him back to the moment, back to this dull hotel room and the reality at hand; the sight of Denmark panting and writhing below him and the painful tightness of his dress pants against his hard cock sharpening his senses as he knelt, licking his swollen lips and meeting Denmark’s hot, wanton gaze.

Eyes wide open, Norway graced Denmark with a small, slow smile before he dipped his head again, watching as Denmark propped up to keep their connection, biting his lip and moaning when Norway took his cock back into his mouth, sliding down as far as he could go. Without looking away, he hummed and laced their hands together, running his thumb across Denmark’s palm and squeezing.

Denmark’s body went rigid as he arched up shouting breathless, meaningless, words as he came down Norway’s throat. Norway closed his eyes and swallowed, holding in place as Denmark’s hand stroked shakily through his hair with desperate, fumbling affection.

When he was certain Denmark could process language again, he crawled up his body to accept Denmark’s hungry, searching kiss, letting him sweep out the taste of himself until they broke apart and he settled on Denmark’s heaving chest.

He stilled Denmark’s wrist when his hand started to reach for his trousers, ignoring Denmark’s confused huff of indignation. He waited until Denmark had stilled, throwing a leg over his, effectively trapping him in an attempt to ensure that the man wouldn’t try anything else as he imparted this last important part of the lesson.

He intended to only have to say it once.

“Denmark,” He murmured, voice scratched and low, reminiscent of what he had just been doing.

“Yeah?” Denmark returned as he turned his head to press an absent kiss to Norway’s forehead.

“Who made the arrangements for tonight?”

Denmark paused, clearly taken aback by the question, before he answered, “Umm, I think my assistant handled it...”

Before Denmark could interrupt him with useless questioning, Norway continued, “And did she ask you if you would have a guest? Let alone who that person would be?”

“No...”

Norway pressed in closer, feeling the bite of the cool air on his skin and Denmark immediately tightened his hold and shifted his body to share more of his warmth as Norway continued, “Did you happen to notice that every booking she made for you was under two names? The car, the hotel, the name cards at the wedding. All of it with two names.. yours....and mine.”

Denmark shook his head, the top of his chin brushing against Norway’s hair.

“You probably don’t know why she came to that conclusion, because you are as dense as Finland’s homemade bread. You also probably haven’t noticed that at every meeting or event we attend we’re seated next to one another. That people don't even bother having two guest rooms for us when we visit. Or that we get mail and phone calls at each other’s houses,” Norway said, trying not to roll his eyes when Denmark let out a great rush of air, as if a switch had just gone on his mind.

He wriggled free enough to prop up on one arm and peer down into Denmark’s wide, happy smile, flicking him on the nose as he said, “The rest of the world already considers us married, you fool.”

Denmark leaned up and pressed that happy smile against Norway’s own slanted lips, kissing him sweetly before he asked, “And you?”

Norway sighed, “I’ve long since reconciled myself to the fact that I seem to be stuck with your idiocy for the rest of eternity. The world should be thankful for my sacrifice of taking you off their hands.”

Denmark barked with surprised and happy laughter, pulling Norway up to lay on top of him, littering his face with kisses until Norway swatted at him in feigned annoyance.

“I guess I should do my part to make up for being such an awesome burden, huh?” Denmark teased, smile unabated as he squeezed Norway’s ass and started rolling their hips together.

Norway let out a breathy little moan, suddenly reminded of his lingering hard-on, agreeing, “You’ll be trying forever to make-up that much.”

“Fine by me,” Denmark said softly before his eyes turned wicked and he rolled them both over, pinning Norway to the bed and growling, “here’s to the future!”

  
Omake:

Sweaty and satiated, Norway was slumped over Denmark’s body, tracing an idle finger over an impressive purple bite mark he’d left on his shoulder in retaliation for having his head knocked into the headboard by a particularly enthusiastic thrust, enjoying the stinging ache in his thighs and the swollen soreness of his kiss-bitten lips. He did so enjoy being a vicious little beast, it was a relief to have gone back to their fast and furious fucking after the slow, sap of earlier.

It seemed that his system wasn't entirely cleared of sentiment and sweetness, for when he was sure that Denmark had fallen asleep, feeling drowsy with comfort and contentment, Norway whispered, “You’re an idiot for ever thinking I would go for some gaudy, big wedding. People are annoying. If I ever were to engage in something so pointless, it would be just the two of us...somewhere near the sea....”


End file.
